


Witch Image

by gingus_doon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Goodbye, M/M, about the title- i didnt have a proper title for this so im just goin with the title of a ghost song, am i supposed to put related things in the tags?, gotta love witch norway, guitars.........., habe sum....gays in a lil bit of denial, however someone's head gets cut open and also witch burnings are mentioned, i mean i can just be a chaotic horny clown in the tags right, its one in the morning help, ok im gonna post the story now, so that may be quite violent, so this is a medieval au, someones flesh is rotting tonight - ghost song in question, this is like 3000+ words i feel so productive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 10:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingus_doon/pseuds/gingus_doon
Summary: some medieval stuff i did for dennor week 2k19 :>





	Witch Image

Magnus wished he could say this was the first time he’d attended a burning. The first time he’d waited in a small crowd of eager people to smell burning flesh on the wind and to see someone wither into ashes. Slowly, and painfully. The flames held no mercy, and neither did the crowd cheering the fire on.

As much as Magnus hated it, this was a familiar scene. Years ago, he would’ve been cheering with his fellow villagers, joining in the chants of “burn the witch!”

Then, he met Sigurd. Honest Sigurd. Caring Sigurd. Lovely Sigurd, who just so happened to be a witch.

Magnus was mad after Sigurd first told him– he refused to talk to the someone he’d held so dear up until that point. He even considered turning Sigurd in. They could burn him, just for being a witch, though Sigurd had done no sins which would be unforgivable in the eyes of God and men.

And as days passed without seeing him, Magnus realised just how foolish he was for being mad at Sigurd for his paganism and magic. He came to realise that he would never willingly hurt Sigurd over anything, no matter how angry he felt, for however long. And regardless of how Magnus still felt that Sigurd was wrong for his beliefs, he still cared for him immensely, and could wait no longer to see him.

This revelation came a bit too late. When Magnus had burst into Sigurd’s house, he wasn’t there. By then, Sigurd had already been taken by the knights. Imprisoned, a burning for him scheduled the day after his capture. Magnus learned this soon after— news of the event spread quickly, people speaking of the burning as if it was something to make a day out of.

As Magnus stared at the upright wooden log before him that Sigurd would soon be tied to, he played the scenario through his head. Clearly, he didn’t want this to happen, but he saw no way to stop it, so his mind simply tried to prepare him for the event by planting it in his mind.

Stuck in his thoughts, it was as if he could smell the smoke already.

The vivid imagery of Sigurd, his best friend and more, writhing in pain as he burned in front of a brainwashed people applauding his suffering was absolutely unbearable. It was all he could do to stop himself from collapsing onto the dry ground beneath him.

The reality of the situation set in, again and again.

_‘In a few minutes, Sigurd will be dead. I’ll never see him again._

_In a few moments, Sigurd will be gone. He’ll never be able to live a full and fulfilling life._

_In just a little while now, the only person I’ve ever longed for with heart and soul will be nothing but ashes in the wind. He will have died without knowing I love him.._

_If… I don’t do something.’_

-  
There was no fullproof plan. There was no time to make even a semi-solid course of action. Magnus acted solely on instinct, the deafening haze in his mind dissipating for the first time today.

He moved out of the crowd as quickly as he could without drawing suspicion. The crowd was smaller than previous crowds Magnus had seen at burnings, but that was only because Sigurd had not been accused of anything. Yet. It wouldn’t be unlikely to think that the executioner would pepper in a murder accusation or some other heinous crime to keep the people on their side during the cruelty they were about to witness. The thought of it all made Magnus bitter. To think that sheep could be lead by louder sheep into killing one of their own in cold blood.

He rushed off to where the witches were held, having known how to get there with ease. After all, he’d been a knight before himself. He used to be one of the bastards orchestrating these iniquities. The memories of it made him feel physically ill, and for a moment, he wondered if this nightmarish sequence reality had become was a divine deliverance of karma long due.

The only time he stopped moving was when he’d reached the holding cells. His heart was pounding, his breath stolen by distress, but he tried his damnedest to quiet himself as he leant against a cold, stone wall, listening for any guards. Immediately, he heard voices. Readying himself for a fight, he peaked over the edge of the cobblestone corner, finding three guards shoving Sigurd out of his cell. One even spit on him. And as much as he would’ve loved to yell at them and take his time beating their asses for mistreating Sigurd, he needed to take advantage of the distraction.

As he charged towards them, he wished he’d brought a weapon. Magnus figured he’d be able to pull a sword off of one of them, but knights wore armour even at times of peace, and their chainmail gave them a significant advantage, along with the number of them.

Still, the element of surprise helped Magnus effectively knock down one knight by charging into and shoving them. Magnus stomped on the knight’s chest after he’d knocked him down to ensure he’d stay down for at least a few seconds longer. Taking the blade from the stunned knight was easier than he thought it’d be; perhaps, the knight’s head had hit the floor too hard. It didn’t seem he was getting up for at least the next two seconds, so Magnus took his blade and turned towards his other threats, who were, unfortunately, very aware of his presence now. In fact, one was already coming towards him, and slashed Magnus’ side with his sword.

Though Magnus wanted to seem invincible in attempt to intimidate his enemies, he couldn’t stop himself from crying out from the sudden sharp pain. It wasn’t deep enough to kill him right then, but it certainly could later if it wasn’t taken care of. As badly as Magnus wanted to press his hand to his side to see how much it was bleeding, he decided he’d take a swing at the man in front of him while the other knight quite literally threw Sigurd back in his cell.

As one of the guards called out for help, he realised he had no time to waste here. Immediately, he went for one guard’s throat, and, without checking if he’d landed the swing, he spinned around to his victim on the floor, stabbing him through the thigh. A thud soon told Magnus the fate of the guard he’d swung at, and he moved forward before turning back around to give him a bit more distance between the one knight left uninjured. He turned to see he’d narrowly missed a blade through the face, managing to get away with only a scrape across his cheek and nose. He moved to the left of his attacker, seeing as he’d backed himself into a wall, and got in a position to have a proper sword fight.  
The knight before him lunged, sword first, to which Magnus responded by redirecting the blade with his own in a way that would not stab him. The other swordsman recovered from this change quickly and swung at Magnus again and again, seemingly with more fervor in every swing. For the entire time, Magnus had tuned out the words being thrown at him, the 'what are you doing?’s, 'halt!’s, and the like. But it was harder to ignore as it came from the person his attention was fixed on.

“You’ve killed two of our men. What kind of Christian are you?” The swordsman landed a hit on Magnus’ shoulder, earning another pained sound. “Are you a witch too now?”  
This polarization hurt somewhere deep in Magnus. The knights were the men he’d worked with not so long ago, and he’d known some of them for years. Some knightly part of him, the part that had been loyal to only king and country, wondered if he was doing the right thing.

In spite of his doubts, Magnus did his best to fend him off and tried to get the upperhand. Nonetheless, he ended up cornered, his sword pressed against his enemy’s so hard he worried it would break.

The opposing swordsman’s blade was nearly at his throat, and for a while, it felt like it was only a matter of time before the sharp end plowed into his neck.

Then, by some miracle (or lack thereof), a sword from behind them both slashed into the knight’s head, cutting the upper part his face in half. Magnus watched in shock, unsure if he should be horrified or thankful. The sheer force at which the man had been swung at launched his blood onto Magnus’ face, which was just a bit traumatizing. The sword was pulled out of the man’s head, and the body fell, revealing Sigurd to be the one behind the slashing. Magnus was relieved it wasn’t some sort of invisible spirit, but surprised and intimidated at seeing Sigurd of all people do such a thing.

Sigurd’s usually calm disposition was now shaken, and he looked even more traumatized than Magnus felt.

“Come on,” Sigurd said with a soft, unsteady voice. “We have to go.”

Magnus nodded, holding Sigurd’s free hand with his own and beginning to pull him away from all the dead bodies they’d left.

“I know you’re probably tired, but we’re gonna have to run. It’s our best bet to run into the woods to have the cover of greenery, and then make a more solid plan from there.” Magnus spoke as he took off his tunic, wrapping it around his waist to cover the wound on his side. Then, he began to pick up his pace. He felt bad for making Sigurd exert himself, knowing that the knights don’t give witches on death row any food, but he couldn’t risk their safety by staying another second. Sigurd agreed to his plan, and they ran for the nearest part of the forest like their lives depended on it, because they kind of did.

Many minutes later, they reached the nearest part of the forest. They would’ve gotten there sooner if they ran in the open, but the pair had to take cover behind buildings and any large objects; after all, they were both wanted people now. They’d be killed on sight, and even on horses, most knights were accurate archers.

As soon as they’d jogged through the woods for a while, Magnus slowed to a stop. He turned to Sigurd, who turned back towards Magnus as soon as he’d noticed he was being looked at. Then, Magnus hugged Sigurd tightly, not giving him any time to react before the hug, nor giving him any space to breathe because of just how hard he squeezed Sigurd. Still, Sigurd accepted and reciprocated the hug, though he wasn’t expecting anything like that from Magnus.

“I missed you so much. I’m so, so glad you’re okay.” Magnus buried his face in the crook of Sigurd’s neck, grasping the back of his smock almost desperately. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died. I don’t think I could live without you.” His last words left his mouth in a whisper, and he hadn’t noticed he was tearing up until he felt himself start to cry.  
“Magnus..” Sigurd responded softly, rubbing the other man’s back for comfort.

Magnus didn’t know about Sigurd, but he could’ve stayed like that for another ten minutes, silent or not. Still, he forced himself to let go, knowing they should keep moving. He did, however, let himself have a few moments to look at Sigurd silently, which Sigurd responded to by blushing.

Magnus didn’t stop to think of the implications of Sigurd’s blushing and instead opted for holding his hand and starting to walk again. Despite his confusion, Sigurd let his fingers intertwine with Magnus’, his heart beating a little faster.

“How are you doing?” Magnus asked with all the tenderness of a homemade pillow. He glanced at Sigurd when talking to him, otherwise eyeing the trees and bushes before them for anything that looked edible.

“I’m alright. Just a bit tired.” That was an understatement. Sigurd felt like he was seconds from falling down, lightheaded and perhaps a bit dizzy. Magnus noticed how unsteady his walk seemed and put an arm around him.

“You sure?”

“I’m kind of hungry, too.” Sigurd added softly, thankful that Magnus gave him help with walking without him having to ask for it. Somehow, it made it feel less degrading.  
They walked quietly for a while, Magnus scanning the greenery around them anxiously for something to eat. Still, the forest seemed barren of fruit, and to make matters worse, the cut in his side was throbbing rather painfully. He didn’t look at Sigurd at all as they treaded along the forest, courtesy of a question that had been bubbling in his stomach ever since he learned of Sigurd’s capture. Eventually, the boiling in his stomach became too much to bare and he decided to ask him.

“Hey, Sig?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I didn’t.. tell them about you, right? About the magic?”

“I know you didn’t.” Sigurd said solemnly, looking towards the ground. Magnus was initially relieved by those words, but as he saw Sigurd’s expression, he began to worry again.

“That’s good, but.. how did you know?”

“I turned myself in.”

Magnus’ face fell. He stopped walking, only staring at Sigurd with wide eyes. Sigurd met those wide eyes with his own, revealing to Magnus a more troubled state of mind than he’d originally let on.

A beat of silence passed before Magnus worked up the will to ask why. The only answer he got was silence, and Sigurd turned away from him.

“Sigurd, please tell me.”

“I was just depressed, and I made a stupid decision because of it…” Sigurd’s voice got quieter with every word he let out.

“Because of me?” Magnus asked hesitantly, unsure if he should’ve even asked, because he felt his heart drop into his stomach acid after Sigurd nodded. Guilt began to bloom and crawl about uncomfortably in his insides, manifesting outwards in the way his face saddened, and the way he began to hold Sigurd in another, more gentle hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m the biggest idiot in the world, but I swear I’ll do everything in the world that I can to make it up to you. If.. if you’ll forgive me.” Magnus stumbled on the last bit, terrified at the idea that he might’ve damaged his and Sigurd’s relationship permanently. However, his fears were soon quieted; Sigurd returned the hug even more tenderly, rubbing Magnus’ back with one of his hands slowly.

“I have nothing to forgive you for. This is all my fault.” Sigurd stated in a matter-of-factly manner, resting his head against Magnus’ warm shoulder.

“That’s not true.. please don’t take the blame for this.” Magnus pleaded with Sigurd softly, shutting his eyes as he pulled him a little closer. Sigurd didn’t respond, wanting to pass out in the comfortable embrace rather than fight about whose fault this was. Thankfully, Magnus didn’t force the topic for now, and simply stayed quiet as Sigurd basked in his warmth.

“Sigurd?” Magnus spoke up after a while. The person in question tensed slightly, yanked out of his mental relaxation.

Despite the tension in his body, Sigurd was still tired, so he opted to respond with a small “hm?”

“I know this might not be the best time to say this, but I want to be with you.”

Sigurd didn’t react to those words for the first few seconds after he’d heard them, merely because he couldn’t yet process what they meant. As soon as the fog in his mind cleared though, he jolted slightly.

“Come again?” Sigurd questioned for further clarification, wondering if Magnus meant what he thought he meant.

“Well, I.. I think I love you. No, wait, I know I do. I understand if you’re not okay with that, but..” Magnus paused, his cheeks tinting themselves with a rosy pink. “I just wanted to let you know.” He looked away from Sigurd, preparing himself for a brutal rejection.

Instead, he got a kiss on the cheek. It was chaste, soft, and best of all, it was from Sigurd. He felt the temperature of his face rise as he looked over at Sigurd with shock written all over his face.

“Let’s talk about this more when we’re not in danger of being killed by bloodthirsty knights.” Sigurd said with a small smile. Magnus was dumbfounded by the events that had just transpired, so he settled for a nod.

They continued walking on again, aimlessly, but a bit more hopeful. It didn’t take long until Sigurd was stumbling instead of walking, and Magnus started to worry about the possibility of him overexerting himself to a dangerous extent. So, he picked up Sigurd bridal style, clearly surprising the smaller man.

“You should go ahead and get some rest.” Magnus told Sigurd with a soft smile. The wound in Magnus’ side moaned within his body, making what was once a dull pain sharp once more, but Magnus smiled through the pain to keep Sigurd from worrying.

“Are you sure..?” Sigurd felt a bit guilty for burdening Magnus with the task of taking care of him, but even more than that, he felt weak. Tired.  
“Absolutely! You’re as light as a feather.”

Sigurd was, in fact, not as light as a feather, but Magnus would never purposely make Sigurd feel like a burden. Sigurd uttered a hushed, tentative “okay” before letting his eyes flutter shut. Magnus smiled down at him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t worry Sig, we’re gonna be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> SCREAM IN THE COMMENTS WHAT U THOUGHT
> 
> SCREAMS ARE THE ONLY ACCEPTED CURRENCY


End file.
